The miracle sun dance continues. Today was the eighth day of pain and suffering, and yet again the morning sky dawned blue. Somewhat surprisingly as the latter part of yesterday was grey and wet. A slightly cold mist helped to keep the Vicarious sweat levels to a mere couple of gallons.
I can also report that my fingers reached within six inches of my toes, thereby setting a standard that was last attained mid way through the last century.
Donbledore has reported in from LA, where his meetings with the high and mighty have served as a timely reminder that the Hollywood machine is not for us. On hearing that we were preparing a TV show about the music business, the immediate suggestion was that we must approach Simon Fuller - the current purveyor of successful music TV, with such items as Popstars and Pop Idols.
Never mind the fact that it is a different audience, a different set of beliefs, and an utterly different approach.
I hope Simon has a self deprecating sense of humour - as the manager of a manufactured Girl Band is the villain of Punk's first Chronicle.
When Donbledore has finished sunning himself in the LA sunshine, we shall return to the possible. Which means music, and Punk's literary classics. In the case of television, this would mean finding a champion in whom we can trust, and none has yet emerged, with the possible exception of Robert Quilty, who is producing today's spectacular 9/11 show for NBC.
"The act of music is the music."
